Fake Blonde
by Evil Rabbit
Summary: AU - Buffy is a talented journalist, who ends up working at a trashy magazine, due to the fact that she's young, inexperienced...and a Californian bottle blonde. After swearing she'll leave after three months, Buffy trudges through, hoping to gain experie
1. Prologue

Fake Blonde  
  
Summary: Buffy is a talented journalist who ends up working at a dead-ended job at a trashy Maxim-esque men's magazine, the only job she could get - mainly due to the fact that she's young, inexpericed...and a Californian bottle blonde. Despite her frustration at her job, and her pig-headed, womanizing, British boss, Buffy trudges through, hoping to gain the experience needed to win a coveted job at Newsweek. But what happens when love gets in the way?  
  
Rating: PG-13 for now...but it will definitely go up to R later (esp. since its an R rating at SpuffyArchives.com)  
  
Pairing(s): Spuffy (duh), W/O, and X/A  
  
Disclaimer: Not mine...don't sue.  
  
A/N:  
  
* A moment of silence for our dearly fallen champion *  
  
Anyway, I decided to finally upload this onto FF.net...the NC-17 version will be on SA.com (when it comes) just so ya'll know. And for readers of Twisted...don't worry, I won't forget about it (even though it probably seems like I have.a few times.)  
  
~  
  
Xander Harris popped open a champagne bottle.  
  
"To my three best friends." He lifted his glass and smiled wryly, "All of whom have survived the terrors and toils that is college. I offer a toast, praying, for their sake, tat all of their professors may have been wrong about the so-called "real world" and that it actually involves eating a lotta cake and picking daisies."  
  
"And me getting a job at Newsweek!" Buffy Summers, Xander's gorgeous, blonde friend with intelligence that shown through her hazel eyes, interjected.  
  
"And that the Buffster may get a job at Newsweek, but with flexible hours, as to not cut into her cake eating and daisy picking time." The friends laughed and clinked the top, and then bottom, of each of their champagne glasses.  
  
"Cake is good." Willow Rosenberg, Buffy and Xander's mutual friend, commented. However, Willow's boyfriend Daniel "Oz" Osbourne, practically choked on the vile taste the champagne produced inside his mouth.  
  
"Yet, oddly, champagne is bad." He deadpanned.  
  
"Hey, I'm on a budget here. Can't go wasting it all of $80 bottles of * sham-pahn-yay. *" Xander replied, a la Christopher Walken on Saturday Night Live.  
  
"Great." Buffy said sarcastically, "So now that three of us," She motioned to herself, Willow, and Oz, "Have to deal with drinking crappy champagne for the rest of our natural born lives."  
  
"Whereas we'll be able to drink the best champagne whenever we want in our *artificially* born lives." Willow said with a giggled, before scrunching her nose, "That sounded really funny in my head." Oz smiled and squeezed her knee. Xander snorted and took a sip of his champagne, grimaced, and set it back down.  
  
"That's disgusting."  
  
"My point exactly." Oz said.  
  
"Why did I even get this stuff? It's Mum's for chrissake." Xander said with a shake of his head. Buffy suddenly sat up with a strange smile beginning to tug at the ends of her lips.  
  
"You jerk." She said, a huge grin breaking out over her tanned face.  
  
"What?" Xander asked, playing dumb.  
  
"Oh, come off it. You know and I know that the only, the * only * reason you bought Mum's is because we watched Meet the Parents the other night!" Xander pouted out his bottom lip and crossed his arms.  
  
"Prove it." He replied childishly and then blew a raspberry in Buffy's direction. She burst into hysterics, his display amusing her to no end. Realizing what she was laughing at, she quickly tried to sober up and mock- punched Xander in the arm.  
  
"Xand! C'mon! Don't do that! I'll start acting like you and I can't have that if I want to be one of the nation's most influential journalists by the time I'm 30."  
  
"A journalist who turned down * five * perfectly good offers from all around the country because she hasn't heard about a Newsweek internship, yet." Willow said, glaring pointedly at the journalist in question.  
  
"Please, Wills. I have it in the bag. I had the highest GPA in the entire Communications department, I'm a people person, I'm opinionated, and have you seen my recommendations? The words "amazing talent" and "enourmous potential" were used more than once if I recall." Buffy looked down into her glass,smirking, "Plus...well, I was gonna tell you at the "right moment," but I heard this afternoon. They want to interview me in New York." Willow's jaw dropped, Xander practically squealed with excitement, and even Oz seemed to convey an emotion.  
  
"Omigosh, Buffy!!" Willow screamed, tossing her arms around her friend's neck and squeezing her into a tight hug, "Do you have any idea how big this is?!?"  
  
"Kinda!" Buffy replied, returned the hug. Willow let go and the pair clapped their hands, jumping up and down in excitement. Xander was in the background, doing the Snoopy dance, singing something about it being Buffy's birthday and Oz nodded his head, patting Buffy on the back.  
  
"Congrats, Buff." He said, with a sincere smile.  
  
"The interviews in about 5 days." Buffy said.  
  
"Wow, they're not giving you much time to prepare." Willow replied, concerned.  
  
"They're probably just seeing how we work under pressure, which believe me, is totally no biggie for me. I ordered my plane tickets this afternoon, so I'm all set!" Xander hugged Buffy and then pulled away, smiling at her like a proud brother on Speed. Buffy smiled back and flopped onto Xander's couch, listening as Willow commented on how it was finally feeling like they were in the real world, Xander saying that he had been in the real world for four years now, Oz deadpanning that Xander * never * lived in the real world, until all of the talking and voices and clapping and music rolled together into one soft, slow, continuous hum. Buffy leaned back, sighing happily, and closed her eyes in contentment, allowing the love around her to engulf her consciousness completely.  
  
~  
  
Meanwhile, at the same time the four friends were celebrating, William "Spike" Reynolds, one of three top editors at the snazzy men's magazine S&M, started to panic.  
  
"What the bleedin' hell do you mean you're leaving?!?!?"  
  
"I can't take it anymore, Reynolds! This job sucks! I'm an intelligent woman working at a magazine named after a kinky sex ritual. It's just wrong." Cordelia Chase, his beautiful employee, replied. Or, as it now looked, ex-employee.  
  
"First off, it's not technically named after the sex ritual, it's named after Sanders and Martisan, you know that." Cordelia simply snorted, "And second off, Cordy, I'm begging you not to leave. You're the best writer we've got. Plus, I need two weeks notice." Spike countered, thinking that he really got her there.  
  
"I gave Anya my two weeks notice two weeks ago. I just thought it would be courteous of me to say goodbye."  
  
"You gave *Anya* notice? But *I'm* your bloody boss!" Spike roared. Cordelia stood up and and slipped her jacket on.  
  
"Goodbye, Spike."  
  
"This doesn't have anything to do with that "incident" a few weeks ago, does it?"  
  
The only response he got, as she left the room, was the waving of her middle finger high in the air.  
  
"Guess so."  
  
~  
  
Nearly a week later, in New York City, Kelsey Malia, a Newsweek correspondent, picked up the next resume in a tall stack. She nearly choked when she read the info.  
  
*Buffy* Summers. From *Sunnydale* California.  
  
Kelsey sighed and threw the paper back onto her desk, rubbing her temples. Buffy Summers? An image of a tall, leggy blonde flashed through her mind. A blonde with a dull gaze set permanently in bright blue eyes. A blonde with a Prada suit and Daddy's plastic to boot.  
  
There was a knock at the door.  
  
"Come in." Buffy took a deep breath and stepped into the large office and smiled.  
  
"Hello, Ms. Malia?" Buffy asked extending her hand, already feeling nervous by the cold once-over the brunette was giving her. However, the woman leaned forward and shook her hand, but quickly snapped back after just barely  
  
"Yes. I am Ms. Malia. Am I correct in assuming that you're Buffy Summers?" Buffy swallowed her anger at the venomous sarcasm placed on her name.  
  
"Yes. It's very nice to meet you. It's been a dream of mine ever since I was a little girl to work at Newsweek."  
  
Kelsey raised an eyebrow at that.  
  
"You don't have the job yet, Blondie."  
  
"Oh! I know! I just meant, that if the opprotunity ever presented itself..." Buffy backpedaled. Kelsey just 'hmm'ed at that and clucked.  
  
"Sit down. I have a feeling this won't take very long." Buffy did so.  
  
"Where did you attend college?"  
  
"UC Sunnydale."  
  
"Get good grades?"  
  
"The best."  
  
"Where do you see yourself in 5 years?"  
  
"Hopefully making some sort of difference in the world." Buffy mentally kicked herself. But then again, the woman had been spit-firing the questions at an unreasonable speed.  
  
Upon hearing Buffy's last answer, Kelsey picked up a random piece of paper and feigned surprise.  
  
"Oh, God."  
  
"Oh, God? Oh, God what?" Buffy asked.  
  
"I'm sorry...I must have missed this memo." Kelsey looked up at Buffy with a fake smile, "I'm afraid all our internship positions have been filled. Better luck next time."  
  
That was the moment that Buffy felt the world fall out from beneath her. 


	2. Chapter One

~  
  
Three weeks later, Willow knocked on Buffy's Sunnydale apartment door.  
  
"Buffy? You comin' out?"  
  
From inside the apartment, Buffy finished her last layer of mascara and smiled into the reflection, which soon crumbled.  
  
"Damn." She breathed in and glared at herself in the mirror, "Get it together, Summers. So you didn't get Newsweek on your first shot. I'm sure it's happened before. Now, you need a job, which equals experience." She heard Willow knock more feverishly. "Be right there, Will!" She yelled, grabbing her purse.  
  
~  
  
2 hours and 34 minutes later, Buffy waltzed into a large office building, full of confidence.   
  
Buffy was slightly surprised when she entered the actual offices at the magazine. It had a bright, cheery atmosphere, with lots of open space. She frowned gently. If she hadn't known the magazine, she would have wanted to work there in a heart beat.  
  
"Miss Summers?" A young, blonde woman walked up beside her.  
  
"Yes?" Buffy asked. The woman visibly brightened.  
  
"Oh! Hello! I'm Anya Jenkins; I'll be one of your superiors. If you work here, that is. If not, then I'll just be some lady on the street. Mr. Reynolds will be with you in a moment." That said, Anya briskly stepped into an office. Buffy blinked and shook her head. Anya poked her head out again.  
  
"We're ready for you now, Miss Summers."  
  
Buffy forced a smile and entered the office, which was large yet plain, the only main focal point being a desk with a messy awry of papers, photographs of various model-gorgeous women, and knick-knacks she assumed were just for decoration.  
  
Sitting behind the desk, Buffy noticed, was a strikingly handsome man...pallid skin with sculpted cheekbones that went all the way up to the ceiling, piercing blue eyes hidden underneath black eyebrows, one with a white scar going through it. Contrasting with his eyebrows was slick-backed platinum hair. Normally, Buffy would have thought 'Billy Idol wannabe much?' but the guy pulled it off effortlessly.  
  
It just seemed to work for him.  
  
Currently, the hottie, who Buffy assumed was Mr. Reynolds, was playing with one of the said knick-knacks...four metallic balls that hung from light strings, held on a black stand. The man picked up one of them and swung it towards the others. The fourth ball, the one on the opposite end of the one he had swung, popped out and hit the others, causing the ball he had picked up to swing out again and hit the others. Buffy found herself mesmerized by the constant movement of the balls, until Mr. Reynolds grabbed all four, in order to settle them. He glanced up at Buffy. He rustled through the dross on his desk and pulled out two resumes.  
  
"Now...are you Buffy or Cindy?" He asked. Buffy was taken aback for a moment when she heard the British accent inflect his voice, but mentally shook herself and cleared her throat.  
  
"Uh, Buffy." He nodded and put one of the papers down. He looked up and smiled at Buffy.  
  
"'Ello. Name's William Reynolds, but no one calls me that, cuz let's face it; William is a pounce's name. Everyone 'round these parts call me Spike." Buffy nodded and extended her hand.  
  
"Nice to meet you, er, Spike." He smiled again and took her hand, giving it an extra little squeeze, making the back of Buffy's neck heat up, despite herself.  
  
"Pleasure's all mine." He cooed. Anya just rolled her eyes.  
  
"Could we please just interview her? I have a meeting on multiple orgasms in a few minutes." Seeing Buffy's eyes widen, Spike laughed.  
  
"It's a story-idea meeting, pet." Buffy nodded, but scrunched her eyebrows.  
  
"Let's see...you went to UC Sunnydale, great school from what I've heard, got the highest GPA in your class, brilliant recommendations...can I ask you a question?"  
  
"Isn't that what you're supposed to do?"  
  
Spike smirked.  
  
"Why are you considering S&M as a career option?" He asked.  
  
"Because I didn't get a Newsweek internship and the other offers I had when I graduated had already replaced me. Why else would I come here?" Buffy blurted out before she could stop herself. She eeped and closed her eyes, covering her mouth with her hand.  
  
"I can't believe I just said that. I am sooo sorry." Spike's smirk just widened.  
  
"'S alright, luv. I like rude women." Anya sent a hard glare his way at that comment. Spike pretended to ignore it.  
  
He stood up and extended his hand towards Buffy.  
  
"We'd love to have you aboard, Miss Summers." Buffy pursed her lips.  
  
"That was quick." Buffy replied. Spike sighed.  
  
"Truth is, pet, one of our best writer's just left. We've been in some serious barney since then...she gave the woman's point of view; not the most...politically correct job, granted. But our readers ate it up. Which is why we need a quick replacement. You're smart, a bit rude, can write, and you have a 'lil bit of Cordy's style. Readers would accept you almost instantaneously." Buffy nodded, impressed by Spike's honesty.   
  
"Okay." Buffy said, taking his hand, which was re-extended. Spike's face broke out into a huge grin.  
  
"You'll start next Monday. We'll negotiate your contract then. We'll probably start you out around $60,000...since you're just startin' out. But we'll work that out later." Buffy just nodded again.  
  
"Bye now!" Anya said, waving. Buffy, taking this as her cue to skeedaddle, walked out, after said a few more courteous good-byes and even a mustered out "Thank you."  
  
Anya closed the door after Buffy and then slowly turned around to glare at Spike.  
  
"What are you glarin' at, Anya?"  
  
Anya crossed her arms.  
  
"A guy who could really fuck up his job if he touches that girl." Spike spared her a glance.  
  
"'Scuse me?"  
  
"Oh, don't play dumb."  
  
"Not playin', pet. I'm genuinely dumb."  
  
Anya clucked her tongue against the back of her teeth.  
  
"I saw that look in your eyes. You were planning on giving Buffy a taste of your Wham-Bam-Thank-You-Ma'am recipe."  
  
Spike just shrugged, purposefully avoiding her gaze.  
  
"Was not."  
  
"You said she had a touch of Cordy's style. Cordy was half-way in love with you. You had intercourse with Cordy. You left. Then she did, making us look for new writers. Now you're gonna do the same thing to Buffy."  
  
"Just cuz I had sex with Cordelia doesn't mean I'm gonna fuck every girl with a pretty face that comes my way."  
  
Anya raised her eyebrow.  
  
"What about Jenna, Sylvia, Harmony, Tyra, DeAnna, Molly, Cara, Kelly, Sara, Cheryl, Tanya, Lindsey, Alexandra, Courtney..."  
  
"Okay! Okay! I get the bloody point! And I never had sex with Kelly or DeAnna."  
  
Anya just snorted.  
  
~  
  
"Yay! Go Buffy!" Willow exclaimed for the fifth time as she, Oz, and Xander helped her begin to pack her things. The friends had spent Tuesday-Saturday searching for and securing the perfect LA apartment for Buffy. It was now Sunday and Buffy was going to officially move in to her new apartment on Wednesday, meaning they needed to pack like a quartet of maniacs.  
  
"Guys, it's just a job. Nothing to freak out about." Buffy said, wishing that they would stop asking about it. So far, she had easily avoided saying the name of *shudder* HER magazine. But she wasn't sure how much longer she could keep going.  
  
"Buffy, I'm confused about something." Oz said. Buffy thought, "I know you're going to work for a magazine in LA, but I still haven't exactly caught the name of the magazine."  
  
"Um, Sanders and Martisan." She said, biting the bullet, praying to God that they wouldn't figure it out.  
  
"Sanders and Martisan? Never heard of it." Willow said.  
  
"Yeah, well..." Buffy started, when she saw Xander's eyes widen.   
  
"Hold up. Sanders and Martisan...you're not talking about S&M, are you?!" Buffy winced.  
  
"Please don't call it S&M, I'm trying to keep some kind of dignity."  
  
"S&M? Buffy, that's so..." Willow started.  
  
"Below me?" Buffy asked, "I know. But I don't really have much of a choice. I was an idiot about turning down the offers I originally had.  
  
"Well, I'm not sure how much my opinion will count for, but I think it'll be good for you. Sucking up your pride and all that." Oz commented.  
  
"Could I meet the models?" Xander piped up. Buffy laughed aloud and nodded.  
  
"I could arrange something." She stopped herself, "Only in a non-brothel sense." Xander snapped his fingers in mock-disappointment.  
  
"Better luck next time, bro." Oz deadpanned, laying a consoling hand on his friend's shoulder. Buffy laughed again and looked at Willow, who had placed a plastic smile on her face, but her eyes betrayed her.  
  
"Wills. I'm just gonna be there for three or four months tops. I just need a job to keep me going. My mom more or less informed me that if I come begging to her for money, especially considering the talent I possess, she'd kick my ass. I'm just doing this to get experience so I can move up on the writing food chain." Willow nodded.  
  
"Promise that you won't stay there for long?" Buffy shook her head incredulously.  
  
"Of course, I promise! Why the hell would I stay there?"  
  
~  
  
"Now this'll be your office" Spike led Buffy to a desk that stood adjacent to Anya's physical office.  
  
"Problem. My office seems to be missing its walls." She said, looking at her new employer. Spike smirked and shook his head.  
  
"None of the writers have an actual office. We think it helps the flow of creativity." Buffy smiled. Spike was tempted to just lean in and nibble on her pouty little bottom lip, but somehow restrained himself, remembering Anya's lecture.  
  
"I figured. I was just teasing. Now, should I get to work on something?"  
  
Spike broke himself out of his reverie and nodded starkly.  
  
"Your first assignment will be on pick-up lines that women hate and love."  
  
"There are pick-up lines women love?" Buffy asked.  
  
"I don't bloody know. You better find *something,* though. Our readers won't accept a Just-Be-Yourself piece of crap."  
  
Buffy took a Post-It note and scribbled down all of Spike's instructions and looked up at him.  
  
"Question. I read some of the old S&Ms this past week and I noticed that Cordelia Chase wrote a column. Am I going to be...?"  
  
"Yeah. You'll also do some independent pieces, but this is for your column. Is that a problem?"  
  
"Uh...no. No. Not at all." Spike gave her a little half-smirk.  
  
"Good. Now, get to work, luv." He gave her a little wink and then retreated to his office, across the room. Buffy sighed and opened up her iBook, when she heard a throat clear behind her. Buffy glanced up and saw Anya standing next to her desk.  
  
"Hi. Can I help you?" Buffy asked. Anya motioned for her to enter her office. Buffy followed.  
  
Once inside, Anya smiled at Buffy and sat her down.  
  
"You're a woman." Anya said. Buffy nodded, her face clearly reading 'Thank you, Captain Obvious.'  
  
"You're a woman," Anya reiterated, "So, I'm sure you like pleasure. Orgasms, I'm talking about." Buffy practically choked on her own saliva.  
  
"What?!"  
  
"Orgasms. You like orgasms. Unless you're a virgin. Are you a virgin?"  
  
"Not that it's any of your business, but no." Buffy replied, the situation seeming all too surreal for her.  
  
"Good. Then you'll understand what I'm talking about. Now, Spike. He could give you many, many orgasms. All in one night."  
  
Buffy widened her eyes.  
  
"But don't let him. Do not have sex with him. He'll just leave you. But not until he makes you fall head over heals in love with him. Then he'll seduce you and the two of you will fornicate. Then he'll leave around 3 a.m. and you'll barely ever get another word out of him ever again."  
  
Buffy sat there shell-shocked, but quickly shook herself out of her stupor.  
  
"So, wait. He's a womanizer?"  
  
"He gives women many, many orgasms and then up and leaves." Buffy bit the inside of her lip.  
  
"Why?" She asked. Anya was taken aback.  
  
"Well, I guess...either he just likes sex a lot or maybe it has something to do with...well, I shouldn't be telling you this, but what the hell...he had this ex-girlfriend, Drusilla."  
  
"Drusilla? Were her parents drunk?"  
  
"Buffy? Were *your* parents drunk?" Anya countered.  
  
"Continue." Buffy said with a flip of her hand.  
  
"Sorry, but I used to be friends with her. Anyway, the man worshipped her. He adored her, called her his 'black princess'. However, he was always consumed by his work, as well. So, Drusilla made him choose between her and the magazine. He told her that he just couldn't give up her livelihood and then she left. He was heartbroken and began to sleep with every girl who came his way, trying to turn himself into the quintessential bachelor. And, hey, it worked!"  
  
"Wow. Poor guy." Buffy said, a pang of pity go through her body, "Not that it excuses his behavior."  
  
"Absolutely not." Anya agreed. Buffy smiled and stood up, ready to leave, but she turned around.  
  
"Why did you warn me?"  
  
"Because he's attracted to you." Anya answered simply. Buffy nodded and then stepped out of the room.  
  
~ 


	3. Chapter Two

~  
  
Buffy bit her lip as she erased everything she had typed, frustrated at herself. She breathed in and blinked, ready to start anew.  
  
"Surefire Ways to Get Her to Your Apartment"  
  
Buffy scowled as she typed the title, but kept it anyway, realizing it was more tasteful than what most of the writers surrounding her were coming up with. One guy had actually named his piece "Hot, Steamy Brunettes Rubbing Oil on Themselves: The Truth About Your Woman's Lesbian Fantasies and How to Make Her Indulge in Them." Buffy could only hope that Spike, Anya, or the ever-elusive Mr. Giles would make him change it. Though, looking at some of the other stories from previous issues, it didn't look likely.  
  
"#1..." Buffy whispered as she typed, "Umm...#1..."  
  
Buffy was about to type that there were no surefire ways when she remembered what Spike had told her. No Just-Be-Yourself piece.  
  
Suddenly, Buffy smiled to herself...an idea was blossoming in her head.  
  
Who said she wasn't allowed to have fun?  
  
~  
  
Spike was normally able to contain himself, but it was just too much. The need, the urge...it was overpowering.  
  
He burst out laughing.  
  
"Pet, I have to say, without any doubt, that this is the funniest piece I've ever read!" Spike wiped his eyes as he continued reading Buffy's "surefire" ways to get a woman into your apartment.  
  
"You know they're all bullshit, right?" Buffy asked. Spike cocked an eyebrow.  
  
"Well, yeah. I'm not a bloody idiot, luv. I know a thing or two about women." Buffy nodded.  
  
"So I've heard." Spike opened his mouth indignantly, but Buffy cut him off.  
  
"Some of them are more sarcastic than just down right stupid, is that okay?" Spike glanced through the paper.  
  
"Which ones are you talking about?"  
  
"Um, like, 13." Spike grazed his finger down the list and stopped at 13, which read: "When you first meet a woman, you absolutely *must * compliment *everything* she does. From her shoes to her makeup and the way she holds her glass, not to mention the way she sits and that tiny freckle on her arm. There is nothing that you should not compliment. Let loose and don't stop. Remember: everything with a 2-foot radius of her is free complimenting territory...use it! And, as an added bonus, since it changes with every woman, there's no way she could know it was a line!"  
  
Spike smirked.  
  
"I think you underestimate the intelligence of our readers."  
  
"Do you really blame me?" Buffy asked. Spike shrugged.  
  
"Our readers pick up our magazine for some R&R..."  
  
"And masturbation material." Buffy added under her breath. Spike quirked an eyebrow at that and smirked.  
  
"No, that would be our swimsuit fold in April." Buffy flushed bright red, embarrassed that Spike had heard her. Spike continued.  
  
"Honestly, pet, the people who read it aren't always as terrible as you'd think. And they're certainly not all rednecks."  
  
"I never said they were rednecks!" Buffy replied defensively.  
  
"You implied it." Spike said, yanking her chain. Buffy sputtered angrily and flailed her arms wildly, until she just decided to sulk. Spike glanced up at her and smiled for a moment, mentally noting that she had an adorable side to her bombshell good looks. He shook his head, really not wanting to go there.  
  
He clapped his hands and leaned back in his chair.  
  
"I thought you'd take longer to write it. I don't have anything else for you to do." He said, staring up at the ceiling. He pushed away from his desk, his chair rolling backwards and bumping the wall. Spike's hand flashed out and clutched the window still in order to steady himself and he smirked again. Buffy was beginning to either really hate or really love that smirk. She couldn't tell.  
  
"You can leave, if you want." Spike offered. Buffy shrugged.  
  
"I'd feel weird. Leaving early on my first day...it seems a little unprofessional."  
  
"That's cuz it is. Fine. You'll stay. I'll think of something for you to do, but til then you can...get yourself acquaintanced with the set-up of the place, introduce yourself to some of your co-workers...whatever works for ya." Buffy smiled and turned to leave, but stopped.  
  
"Spike, I noticed that Cordelia's column was called Brunette. What's mine gonna be?" Spike gave her his customary smirk.  
  
"Fake Blonde."  
  
~  
  
"Can you believe that?! Fake Blonde! It's so..." Buffy shook herself and pretended to get the chills.  
  
"Derogatory?" Willow offered, as sat down the last box in Buffy's new LA apartment.  
  
" * Very * derogatory. I just don't know who he thinks he is." Buffy said, sitting down on a crate.  
  
"Here's a funny thought." Xander said as he emerged from Buffy's bedroom, "Maybe he thinks he's, oh, I don't know, your boss?" Buffy stuck her tongue out at him.  
  
"Whose side are you on, anyway?" She asked.  
  
"Just call me Switzerland." He said with a lopsided grin. Buffy scowled and flipped her hair behind her back as Xander shrugged at Oz. From the center of the room, Willow sniffed and looked around the apartment, hugging her arms closely to her torso.  
  
"So, this is it, huh?" Willow said, her voice wavering with unshed tears. Buffy rolled her eyes.  
  
"Geez, Will. I'm just moving to Los Angeles. I'll see you practically every weekend, I promise. How are you gonna react when I move to New York?" Buffy asked, putting her hands on her hips.  
  
"Don't even mention that." Willow said, her voice lacking in any teasing quality. Buffy smiled sadly and hugged her friend.  
  
"Willow," Buffy said, still clutching her best friend, who had finally begun crying, "I'm gonna be fine. We're gonna be fine. Nothing's gonna change! It'll just be a longer drive for us to see each other."  
  
"It's not just that!" Willow coughed out, wiping the fallen tears with the back of her hand. Oz took the back of her shoulders and rubbed them slowly. Buffy raised her eyebrows expectantly.  
  
"Everything's changing! You've got a job, I've got an internship, Oz and I are getting married..." Buffy's eyebrows disappeared into her hairline at that comment.  
  
"What?! When did this happen?" Buffy asked with a huge grin. Willow sent out a small laugh, but kept mumbling all the things that had changed.  
  
"Last night." Oz said, still rubbing his distraught fiancée's shoulders. "We were gonna tell you all at dinner tomorrow, but it looks like Willow had different plans."  
  
"...and my goldfish died, and... " Oz gently nudged Willow, which broke her out of her trance. She smiled sheepishly and held out her hands.  
  
"So, yeah! Oz and I are getting married!" Buffy put her hands to her mouth and then brought them down abruptly, looking on the verge of tears herself.  
  
"Oh my God...you * guys! *" She ran over and engulfed them both in a huge bear hug, "I am so incredibly happy for you!" Xander joined in the group hug, and then picked Willow out from it and spun her around in the air. Buffy rushed over to the redhead when Xander had finally placed her down and began chatting about all the essentials...the size of the ring, the size of the wedding, who the bridesmaids were gonna be (Buffy was to be the Maid of Honor, of course), if Oz's band, Dingoes Ate My Baby, were going to play at the wedding, if they were going to have a Rabbi preside, if they were going to invite that weird groupie guy who always came to the Dingoes shows and threw his boxer shorts at Devon, the lead singer... Meanwhile, Xander shook Oz's hand firmly and congratulated him a thousand times.  
  
"We're hoping for a February wedding." Willow announced.  
  
"We are?" Oz asked.  
  
"We are." Willow confirmed.  
  
"February, huh? That's, like, 7 months from now." Xander figured in his head.  
  
"Well, we need time to plan everything. We're gonna have a * huge * wedding. Practically monstrous!"  
  
"We are?" Oz asked again.  
  
"We are." Willow replied with a sickly sweet smile. Oz nodded eagerly, but when the girls turned away, he shot a desperate look to Xander and gulped.  
  
Xander laughed. He had a feeling the next few months were going to be very interesting for his short best friend.  
  
~  
  
"You're late." Anya greeted Buffy at the elevator as she walked into the office. Buffy scrunched her eyebrows in confusion and looked down at her watch.  
  
"It's 9:01." Buffy replied. Anya nodded.  
  
"Which means you're technically late. Giles is here. Word of advice: Giles doesn't believe that cleanliness is next to godliness." Buffy waited for the other shoe to drop.  
  
"Well...?" She finally asked. Anya sighed in frustration.  
  
"Punctuality! Giles believes punctuality is next to godliness. Though it doesn't make as good of a quote...but still. Don't be late. Not even a minute. If your early you're on time and if your on time your late." With that, Anya patted Buffy on the head and went back to her office. Buffy shut her eyes and opened them again, still trying to accustom herself to the woman's way of speaking.  
  
"You get used to it." Buffy turned around at the sound of her boss's voice and shook her head.  
  
"I don't see how you could." Spike laughed.  
  
"She talked to you about orgasms yet?" He asked. Buffy let out a small laugh.  
  
"Unfortunately." Spike smirked and then looked down at the folder in his hand, "Here's your corrections. There's some in here that I want you to lengthen, cuz they could really be funny, but it just doesn't have enough. Then, there's others I want you to shorten, cuz they just aren't as funny to begin with." Buffy nodded, taking in all of his instructions. Spike smiled at her.  
  
"You'll meet Giles, our other editor, at some point today. Til then, get workin', pet." With that, he retreated back into his office.  
  
Buffy cleared her throat and walked to her desk, but was surprised to see a guy - a tall, dark, and handsome guy - leaning against it.  
  
"Can I help you?" Buffy asked. The man smiled and extended his hand, which Buffy took.  
  
"Angel O'Connor. I'm a photographer around here. Wow, you're quite the looker." Buffy blushed and twirled a strand of her hair.  
  
"Well, I...I'm sorry. I'm Buffy Summers."  
  
"I know. Look, I don't have much time. I have a shoot in about, oh, now. But for your column we're gonna feature a picture of you. Is that alright?"  
  
"As long as it's tasteful." Buffy replied. Angel smiled.  
  
"It will be. I promise. So, sometime next week? We've got awhile til the next issue comes out...you know it's bimonthly, right?" Buffy nodded.  
  
"Next week should be fine."  
  
"Great! I'll see you then. My studio is on the next floor; just tell Faith, my secretary, who you are and she'll send you right in." Angel paused, "You really are very beautiful."  
  
"Thanks, so are you." Buffy blushed again at that, "I can't believe I just said that." Angel laughed.  
  
"I took it as a compliment." Angel and Buffy locked eyes for a moment, before Angel gave a little wave and left. Buffy sighed wistfully and a tiny smile pulled at her lips.  
  
Maybe working at S&M wouldn't be * so * terrible...  
  
~  
  
Spike's eyes darkened with anger as he watched Angel walk away from Buffy. It was strange, but somehow, Spike had grown somewhat protective of the blonde. She was certainly more naïve than most of the female writers at S&M...she just seemed...more pure. Well, maybe pure wasn't the * best * word, as Spike remembered her little masturbation comment from earlier, but there *was* something more unique about her. Which was why he, in his mind, had agreed with Anya to not touch her.  
  
Not that he didn't want to.  
  
But that was besides the point.  
  
Spike was a player. He knew it. Everyone knew it. Hell, from that little comment Buffy had made, she knew it too. But as much of a womanizer as he was, there was one man who surpassed him by a mile. That, of course, was Angel.  
  
Spike thought as he covertly lit a cigarette, keeping his eye out for Anya or Giles, both of whom would have his head if they caught him. A small voice in the back of Spike's mind nagged that he himself was a stereotype...rich, successful boss-type who slept with every beautiful woman he met. But he ignored it, as always. He cared about Buffy, in a strange sort of way. Not in a romantic way (at least, he didn't think so), but in a more...friendship way. Like she had been a good friend of his since college, who he was suddenly reunited with. Or even better, like she was the younger sister of his best friend from childhood, suddenly all grown-up. He felt a strange sort of instant connection to the chit.  
  
Spike smirked to himself, knowing that he needed to keep Buffy safe from the usual office melodrama that occurred.  
  
But before he could do that, he needed to actually become her friend first.  
  
~ 


	4. Chapter Three

~  
  
Buffy typed aimlessly on her iBook, story ideas pouring out from her fingers. She sighed when she read down the list. None of them were appropriate for S&M.   
  
"My, my." A British voice said behind her, "That's, er, quite a list. I'm afraid we may not be able to use many of them." Buffy spun around and came face to face with an older man with a round face, still handsome, with wire- rim glasses resting upon the bridge of his nose. He smiled at her and ducked his head,  
  
"Please excuse me for just interrupting you in this manner. Rupert Giles. I own the magazine." Buffy smiled back and held her hand out.  
  
"Buffy Summers. I'm new here."  
  
"I assumed as much. I read your, uh, your column...quite impressive. I believe I nearly, well, I nearly cried from laughter." Buffy raised her eyebrows...not so much at his comments, but at the man himself.  
  
"So...you're like the Head Honcho guy around here." Buffy stated to which Giles nodded.  
  
"Yes. This magazine began in my family and it has finally been returned to its original roots. It started with my uncle, er, Christopher Sanders, and his partner, Maurice Martisan. Back then it was a, uh, an underground political magazine. When Uncle Sanders, um, as he was known, when he, uh, died, the, the Martisan family took it over. Eventually Sanders & Martisan shaped into the empire that it is today." Buffy stretched her fingers out and looked back up at the man in front of her.  
  
"Would your uncle like S&M now, do you think?" Giles widened his eyes in shock.  
  
"Well, well. You really are , uh, a, a, a, a journalist, aren't you? In, um, in all perfect honesty, my guess would be no. He was always a, uh, an um, an upstanding gentlemen, n-not the type to read a magazine entitled S&M." Buffy detected the note of disgust as he stated the more, um, modern name for the publication. She gave him a half-smile, but kept her bewilderedness to herself. The stuttering, helplessly adorable man in front of her was the one responsible for the magazine which she had been so adamantly against. Buffy and Giles exchanged a few more words until he had to get back to work. They said their goodbyes and Buffy sat back down in her chair, a strange feeling taking her over. She had *liked* Mr. Giles. She honestly liked him. .  
  
Buffy stood up from her desk and walked across the room to her boss's office. She knocked on the swirly-glassed door.  
  
"It's open!" A North London accent beckoned. Buffy stepped in and opened her mouth, but Spike thrust two pictures in front of her face.  
  
"Which one?"  
  
They were two cars.  
  
"Excuse me?" She asked, looking down.  
  
"Which one do you like best?" Buffy cocked an incredulous eyebrow, but scanned over the picture. One was a Boxter, the other a 9-11.  
  
"Um, the Boxter?" Spike rolled his eyes.  
  
"Figures you'd pick the chick one."  
  
"You asked me which one I'd like better and me being a chi- a *woman* that's the one I'd pick. And just so you know, not many people would call a Porsche Boxter a "chick car."" Spike sighed.  
  
"This is so frustrating!" He flopped back into his chair and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Buffy contained a laugh.  
  
"Could you take a moment out of dealing with your Oh-So-Serious issues for one minute to answer some of my questions?" Spike perked his head up.  
  
"Sure, luv. What's on your mind?" Buffy folded her arms, a little taken aback by just being handed the floor.  
  
"Um, it's about Mr. Giles. What's his story?" "You mean why is a scone- eating, literature reading bloke like him doing with a magazine like this?" Buffy avoided his gaze, "It's perfectly understandable. A lot of people wonder the same thing. I've had a few investors comment that I'd make a much better top editor than him." Spike's smirk molded into a smile, "But they're wrong. Wanna know why, kitten?" Buffy shrugged, feigning indifference, when curiosity was truly bubbling up inside her at his words.  
  
"Because he's the Ripper."  
  
This didn't have quite the effect Spike was hoping for.  
  
"Huh?" Spike rolled his eyes again.  
  
"The Ripper, woman! Haven't you ever of Jack the Ripper? Giles is the Ripper!" Buffy wrinkled her nose.  
  
"He kills prostitutes?"  
  
"Well, no one actually takes the allusion seriously, pet. It just means that's he's got balls of steel, he doesn't take anyone's shit. Me, on the other hand, I'm a bloody doormat when a gorgeous women strolls in. Melt like bleedin' putty."  
  
"Oh." Buffy stated simply.  
  
The pair stood in awkward silence for a few moments until Spike cleared his throat.  
  
"So, you think I should go with the 9-11, then?"  
  
~  
  
"Ooh! Turn to page 54 and check out the top right picture! It's perfect!" Buffy exclaimed into the phone she held between the crook of her neck. She smiled as she heard Willow sigh on the other end.  
  
"Buffy." Willow spoke very slowly, "It's yellow. Brides do not wear yellow." Buffy rolled her eyes.  
  
"Doi. What sort of idiot do you take me for? I was talking about the bridesmaid dresses. It would look sooo good on me."  
  
Pause.  
  
"Will?"  
  
"It's too pretty." Willow admitted sheepishly. Buffy bolted upright.  
  
"Please tell me you're joking."  
  
Another pause.  
  
"Willow!"  
  
"I'm sorry!" The redhead screeched, "It's true though!"  
  
"Don't you dare go all Lucifer's Bride on me now." Buffy swore she could hear Willow's eyebrows being drawn in.  
  
"Lucifer's Bride? Never heard of that one before..."  
  
"Well," Buffy reasoned, "I'm sure if the devil * did * have a bride, she wouldn't be a very happy camper." Suddenly, Willow gasped.  
  
"Oh...Oh! Buffy! Turn the page! It's the perfect bridesmaid dress!!" Buffy turned to page 56 and lifted a corner of her lip.  
  
"The blue one? Kinda..." Buffy began, but soon found that there were no words.  
  
"It's soo great for a winter wedding!"  
  
"A winter wedding in California." Buffy reminded her.  
  
"A winter wedding none the less. I'm definitely gonna order it." Buffy sighed inwardly, examining the picture. The dress was navy blue with long sleeves...it was pretty, but it just...it seemed to come straight out of a Renaissance fair.  
  
"Yay." Buffy replied half-heartedly. Quickly realizing that she might hurt her friend's feelings, Buffy changed the subject.  
  
"How weird is this? Looking through bridal catalogues on the phone together for you and Oz's wedding. I mean, I remember when you were hesitant to go out with him because he was shorter than you." Buffy laughed.  
  
"I know! The time has flown by so quickly. Flip." Buffy turned the page, "It's just...god, I can't believe I'm getting married. It's really nerve wracking. Not just for me, I'm sure."  
  
"Oh, believe me. My nerves are wracked." Buffy replied, twirling the phone cord with her index finger.  
  
"At least we'll never have to go through this with you."  
  
"What's that supposed to mean?" Buffy asked defensively. "Am I *that* repulsive to men?"  
  
"Oh, no! No! I just meant that you're always going on about your career and Newsweek and everything and I just assumed that marriage isn't your, er, n- number one priority and..."  
  
"Breathe, Wills." Buffy consoled her back pedaling friend, "I get where you're coming from. I don't come off as the most marriage-friendly gal on the block."  
  
"Very true."  
  
"But I do, you know." Buffy said.  
  
"Do what?"  
  
"Want to get married."  
  
"Oh."  
  
The two women sat in comfortable silence, the only sound to be heard was the changing of pages from each of their respective magazines.  
  
"I met a guy. His name's Angel." Buffy commented.  
  
"That's nice."  
  
"He's nice."  
  
"Flip."  
  
"Okay."  
  
~  
  
The next day, Spike and Anya gathered around the desk inside Anya's office.  
  
"Is Giles coming today?" Anya asked.  
  
"No. Old Man had to ship out to England for some emergency business with the investors."  
  
"All of the business with the investors are emergencies. They control our money." Anya stated.  
  
"Right." Spike said with a little shake of his head, "Moving on...what do ya got for me?"  
  
Anya brightened.  
  
"I have many, many ideas. I organized them all into a pamphlet." Spike waved her forward. She cleared her throat.  
  
"Idea number one: How to Fully Enjoy Your Orgasm. Idea number two: Orgasms and Everyday Household Items. Idea number three: Miss Kinky Answers All of Your Orgasmic Questions. Idea number four: Why Giving Her Orgasms Will Increase Your Pleasure: Dr. Williams M.D. Explains. Idea number five: Orgasms, Org-"  
  
"Would you lay off the orgasms? Bloody hell, woman. There *are* other things men are interested in besides sex you know."  
  
"You mean things such as cars and tools? I have those ideas in these other pamphlets." She held up two other piles of papers, both of which were considerably thinner than the first. Spike sighed.  
  
"Alright, um...here it goes. I liked the M.D. idea...do we definitely have him lined up?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Sick bastard. Still, that would be a "yay" for us. And the...the Miss Kinky idea...great name. Do you think it sounds too Hustler-ish, though?"  
  
"Absolutely not!" Anya proclaimed with a huge grin.  
  
"Fine, then. I'll get someone on that ASAP. Oh, and I'll probably take out the word 'orgasmic'...it just freaks me out."  
  
Anya pouted, but waved her consent.  
  
"Brilliant. That settles everything. Now, what about those two other pamphlet things ya got there?"  
  
Anya cleared her throat again.  
  
"Idea number one: How Cars Can Be Used to Lengthen Your Orgasms. Idea number two..."  
  
Spike inwardly groaned.  
  
It was going to be a long day.  
  
~  
  
"So then the Dingoes are doing a show up in Redding on the 10th and Eureka on the 11th. I'll fly back by the 12th leaving time for any last minute panic attacks and the rehearsal dinner." Oz explained as he, Willow, Xander, and Buffy sat around an oblong table at The Robot's Apartment - a hip LA club - the next weekend.  
  
"And for the bachelor party!!" Xander said, pounding the table. However, with a death glare from Willow, he instantly backed down, "Or not."  
  
"So we'll have the rehearsal dinner and then the ceremony'll be on the 14th." Oz finished.  
  
"I'm getting married on Valentine's Day!!" Willow squealed, clapping her hands together like a manic clown. Buffy smiled warmly, doing her best to bite her tongue about her feelings toward that particular day. Even when she and Riley were together, she never liked it. He would always try to buy her something or do something with her (or just do *her*) but she never let him. She didn't see why love had to be celebrated on a day that was invented by the card companies just to rip everybody off. However...  
  
"That's so romantic." Buffy said. Willow gave her a little look of gratitude for not ruining her moment. The friends sat in silence for a moment.  
  
"Well, everything's getting a little too bittersweet for me." Buffy commented, "Who wants to get their ass kicked in pool?" Oz contemplated the notion and then pushed out his chair.  
  
"I think I'm up for the occasion." Xander pulled on his friend's arm.  
  
"Just a warning, man. When Buffy says 'who wants to get their ass kicked,' she's talking literally."  
  
"Oh, don't be so dramatic. You're just a sore loser. C'mon, Oz." Buffy dragged the short man with her. Willow and Xander shrugged at one another and followed them. Buffy quickly secured a table and grabbed two sticks. She threw one to Oz who caught it.  
  
"You wanna break or do you wanna shoot for it?" Oz asked, rubbing blue chalk on the tip of the stick. Buffy thought about it for a moment.  
  
"I'll just do it." Oz nodded and picked the frame off. Buffy aligned her shot and smoothly sent the white ball toward the perfect triangle, dispersing all of balls across the red felt. A blue ball plopped into the right corner pocket on the opposite end of the table. Buffy smiled.  
  
"Looks like I'm solids." Buffy loved being solids. They always seemed to work for her. She shot again, hitting the green ball in. It, however, decided to be stubborn and popped back out again.  
  
"Shit." Buffy said, pouting. Oz gave a half-smile and took his shot. He didn't hit anything.  
  
"At least you're still going to win." He said, "Cuz I suck."  
  
"Well, where's the fun in that?" Buffy asked, sending the nasty green ball to its final resting place.  
  
"I don't see it." Buffy widened her eyes at the familiar voice. She spun around and practically knocked a smirking Spike over.  
  
"Hey, pet." He said.  
  
"Spike. Wow. How, um, unexpected." She replied. Spike shrugged.  
  
"These your mates?" He motioned around the table.  
  
"Oh! Yeah...everyone, this is Spike, my boss. Spike, this is Oz..." Oz and Spike nodded at each other, "...Xander..."  
  
"Howdy." Xander said with a tiny salute.  
  
"'Ello." Spike replied coolly.  
  
"...and Willow." Buffy finished.  
  
"How's it goin', Red?" Willow's hand flashed up to her hair. She giggled and then just shrugged.  
  
"You playin' some Billiards?" Spike asked the hypothetical question as he ran his finger around the edge of the table, "Nice...you're pretty good, luv. Give me a run for my money."  
  
"I am so not gonna challenge you to a game of pool." Buffy replied. Spike raised his eyebrows.  
  
"Oh? And why's that?"  
  
"Cuz you're my boss and I'd hate to have to let you win." Spike laughed.  
  
"You wouldn't have to *let* me do anything, luv."  
  
"Oz is in a band!" Willow squeaked out randomly. Everyone turned to stare at her. "Well, he is..."  
  
"What do you play, mate?" Spike asked, curious.  
  
"Bass guitar." Oz replied.  
  
"Really? I used to dabble in guitar a bit. I mean, I'm no bleedin' Clapton, but I know a few tunes. You guys travel around?"  
  
"Yeah, we usually stay in California, Arizona, Oregon, and Nevada, though."  
  
"Still. Sounds like you get around. Have a big following?"  
  
"Decent sized. We're called the Dingoes Ate My Baby." Spike smirked.  
  
"Great name."  
  
"We thought so."  
  
As Spike and Oz continued to converse, Buffy pulled Willow and Xander to the side.  
  
"They're bonding!" Buffy hissed, "They're bonding like their some sort of...bondage buddies!"  
  
Xander raised his eyebrows. Buffy made a face.  
  
"Okay, I'm gonna have to live with *that* imagery in my head for the rest of the night. But you knew what I meant." Willow shrugged.  
  
"I don't see what the big deal is."  
  
"The big deal is that he's the boss of the job that I'm going to quit in about 2 1/2 months! They cannot be friends!"  
  
"He seems like a nice guy." Willow said, "And look, Oz is actually laughing. He really gets along with this guy! You can't take that away from my baby." Buffy sighed and nodded...grudgingly, however. Next to them, Xander began to panic.  
  
"What? Spike made him laugh? Out loud? I've never done that! Oh my god...he's laughing again, look!" Buffy leaned over and saw that, indeed, Oz was laughing with Spike, "Stop laughing!! This is not good, this is not good. Oz likes him better than me!"  
  
"No he doesn't." Buffy stated.  
  
"Maybe not yet, but he will! You know he hasn't asked me yet, right?"  
  
"Asked you what yet?" Willow burrowed her eyebrows.  
  
"To be his best man. And now I'm not going to be because of *Spike*" Willow laughed.  
  
"Xander, don't be ridiculous! Oz definitely has you pegged as the best man...he's just not good at asking the sentimental stuff."  
  
"And now he's not going to at all because he can just ask Spike, who makes him laugh, so it won't be as big of a deal!" Buffy shook her head and whispered in Willow's ear.  
  
"We're gonna have to hear about this until he's standing up on the altar with us, isn't he?" Willow stifled a laugh. The three friends moved back over to Spike and Oz.  
  
"...and then he said, 'that's not a pick, that's a checker piece!'" Oz finished his story and Spike burst out laughing.  
  
"You're a bloody good storyteller, mate." Oz shrugged.  
  
"Devon's a funny guy to tell stories about. You should come to one of our after show parties, meet the guys. We're playing in LA next weekend."  
  
"Sounds like a plan."  
  
Willow yawned and rolled her arms above her head.  
  
"What time is it?" She asked, leaning her head against her fiancee's shoulder. Oz looked down at his watch and raised his eyebrows.  
  
"Pretty late. We should probably get going."  
  
Xander looked down at his watch and nodded his agreement.  
  
"Yeah, I have to be at the site tomorrow. Apparently there's some frame- work problem that can't wait til Monday." He turned around and hugged Buffy. "See ya next weekend, Buffster."  
  
"Bye." Buffy said, still hugging her friend. Spike raised one eyebrow at the display...unanswered questions playing on his face.  
  
He broke his gaze away from Xander and Buffy when Willow cut in. Spike said goodbye to Oz, and firmly shook his hand, promising to keep in touch. Soon, Buffy was the only one left of the group. She gave him a little smile and then pulled out a phone.  
  
"Los Angeles, California." She paused, "Hi, uh, yes...I need the number of a cab service."  
  
"Luv-" Spike began.  
  
"Any one, it doesn't matter." Buffy said to the person on the other side of the line, ignoring Spike.  
  
"Pet-"  
  
"Yes, that's fine."  
  
"Buffy!" Spike exclaimed, trying to get her attention. Buffy looked over at him.  
  
"Wow. You do know my name." Spike glared at her. "Sorry."  
  
"Say you're sorry if you mean it, not just because I control your paycheck." He replied. Buffy quickly jotted down the number that was given to her. "I can give you a ride, if you'd like." Spike wondered. But, none the less, his heart was pounding wildly as he anticipated her answer. Buffy crinkled her brow.  
  
"No, thank you." She finally replied. Spike gave her a wan smile.  
  
"You'd rather throw out some of your perfectly useful money than accept a ride from me? That's a bit harsh, luv."  
  
"Really, I don't want to be a bother." Buffy said, beginning to punch the numbers into her phone. Spike's hand wrapped around hers, stopping her movement.  
  
"I don't bite, Buffy." He said, his eyes blazing into hers. Buffy gulped and put her phone away.  
  
"Okay." She finally agreed, "I'll go." Spike smirked.  
  
"Great." Buffy nodded and smiled back.  
  
"Just let me get my coat."  
  
Spike breathed in and swung his hands idly. 


	5. Chapter Four

Spike set his eyes forward onto the expanse of road before him, ignoring the slight tingling sensation in the palm of his hands. His camels were teasing him endlessly from the inside of his cup holder, all of the cancer- causing tar just waiting to be sucked in and smoothly breathed out.  
  
Contrary to popular belief, however, Spike was not an idiot.  
  
The first thing Buffy had done when she entered his car was sniff the air and scowl at the residue smoke. She had even cranked the window a bit, so she wouldn't have to deal with second-hand smoke penetrating her precious, still-pink lungs.  
  
Considering * that * reaction, Spike didn't even want to know what she'd do if he actually lit one up while she was in the car.  
  
he thought with a wry smirk. He glanced over to the blonde, who stared out the window, a pensive look upon her face. Spike wondered for a moment what thoughts were dancing around inside her pretty head.  
  
"There sure are a lot of people in this city." Buffy murmured, as another flash of a car whizzed by. Spike smirked.  
  
"Well, I should hope so. It is one of the two largest metropolitan areas in your country, luv."  
  
Buffy twisted her body around to look at Spike with a mirrored smirk. " * My * country, huh?"  
  
"Well, yeah," Spike replied. Buffy contemplated Spike for a minute, then leaned back, keeping only her neck turned toward him. "You're still hailin' the Queen Mum, aren't ya?"  
  
Spike snorted. "Naturally."  
  
"Are you a citizen?" Buffy asked. "Of America, I mean."  
  
"Green card." Spike said simply as he merged onto one of the many LA highways. Buffy nodded slowly and leaned back all the way. Silence spanned over the car. Buffy stared down at her finger-nails, mindlessly picking at her polish. Buffy sang softly...  
  
"Gimme the beat boys and free my soul, I wanna get lost in your rock 'n roll and drift away..." Buffy grinned sheepishly in response to Spike's amused smirk. "I have it stuck in my head," She explained.  
  
"Ah, shit!" Spike suddenly exclaimed as he drove his car straight into a traffic jam, "This is just what I bloody need."  
  
Buffy grimaced as she stuck her head out of the window to evaluate the situation.  
  
"Looks pretty jacked. We might be here for awhile." She said, watching as Spike began pounding on the horn. She covered her ears. "Spike! That's-" He kept honking the horn, "SPIKE! SPIKE!!! THAT'S NOT GONNA HELP!!"  
  
When he still didn't listen, Buffy slammed her hands down onto his. The sounds of the other cars yelling various insults were finally heard by the blonde duo. Buffy glared at him at he purposefully avoided her eyes.  
  
"Hey, Passive-Aggressive-Guy, you wanna take it down a few notches? It really isn't that big of a deal," she said. He glanced up at her.  
  
"I am not in the mood for bleedin' 'club traffic' or whatever."  
  
Buffy drew in her eyebrows incredulously. "You think anyone here is? We'll just have to wait it out like everyone else."  
  
Spike scowled at that, but finally consented, leaning back with a slight pout. Buffy concealed a giggle with a cough, thoroughly amused by her boss's antics. She took her neck inside her left hand and rotated it, trying to get a few little kinks out of the crook of her neck.  
  
It was going to be a long night.  
  
~~~~~~  
  
"HAHA!!! Oh my GOD! You're kidding me!" Buffy exclaimed, as she doubled over with laughter. Spike coughed out a few laughs of his own and wiped away the tear from his eye.  
  
"I kid you not, pet. She measured the distance between his index finger and thumb, saw it was only about 3 or 4 inches, and said: "There's no way in hell that I would ever date your short ass...or should I say dick??" Spike explained, putting on his best Midwestern accent.  
  
"She's horrible! And you saw the whole thing?" Buffy asked.  
  
"The whole bloody office did! Course, the man was so traumatized he ended up quitting and working for a competitor, but still. Anya always makes for interesting stories."  
  
"I see that," Buffy said, the laughter finally dying down in her voice. She smoothly wiped under her eyes, trying to clean up some of the mascara she was sure was running. Spike motioned toward a little speck on her cheek.  
  
"You got somethin' right there."  
  
Buffy tried to flick it away, but to no avail. "Here?"  
  
Spike leaned over and gently brushed his finger against it, making her face completely pure again. Spike stared into her eyes for a moment too long and his heart rate suddenly increased. He backed away and stared at his cigarettes. He thought to himself, glancing back and forth between the fags and Buffy, who stared obliviously out the window again Get to me every time.  
  
~~~~~~  
  
"Right here's good."  
  
Spike pulled the car to a halt in front of a small apartment complex. Buffy unbuckled her seat belt and looked over at her driver.  
  
"Thanks for the ride...it was actually sorta fun."  
  
Spike gave her a light smile. "See you on Monday, pet."  
  
Buffy returned the grin and gave a tiny wave as she stepped out of the car. Yawning, Buffy moved to her door, ready to collapse the moment she reached her bed.  
  
"BUFFY!"  
  
Buffy let out a tiny whimper, but turned back around to face Spike. "What?" She asked wearily.  
  
Spike took in a breath   
  
"You're new to the office and though I'm sure you've heard rumors about, er, certain people, I have to warn you. Some of the rumors you hear are just that... rumors. But others-"  
  
Buffy cut Spike off by putting her hand to his lips, thinking she understood where Spike's speech was going. "Spike." Buffy pulled her hand away and Spike felt a tiny pang from the loss of contact, "I don't care about the past. I know you better now and though I still might have some doubts in certain areas, I'm going to trust only what I can see and my instincts. And right now, I'm seeing, and feeling, that you're a good person."  
  
Spike practically melted when he heard that. He looked down and chuckled, a blush creeping over his cheeks. His throat was dry and he forgot for a moment why he even stopped her.  
  
A flash of Angel's half-assed grin appeared on his retina.  
  
"That's sweet, luv, but what I meant was-"  
  
Buffy yawned again. "Ya know what, Spike, I'm really, really tired, can we finish this later?"  
  
Spike pursed his lips for a moment, but caved in. He nodded.  
  
"Thanks. You're the best. I'll see you on Monday."  
  
"G'bye, Buffy." Spike replied. Buffy sent him a wave as she slowly entered her apartment door. When she was out of sight, Spike sighed and walked over to his car.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
"Just relax." Angel cooed into Buffy's ear as she reclined on a red velvet couch, inside his studio. Buffy felt his breath tickle on her neck, and found that her heart rate had escalated to a sickening pace and she was positive her face was the color of beets.  
  
"I'm all with the relaxing," she replied with a nervous laugh. He gave her a little smile in return, and when he turned his back, Buffy slapped her forehead.  
  
"You ready?" Angel asked as he finished setting up the angle of the camera.  
  
Buffy nodded affirmatively.  
  
"Now just lean back..." which she did, and stare straight into the camera with a little smile."  
  
Buffy awkwardly grinned. Angel pursed his lips and walked over to her adjusted her hands, draping one of her arms above her head.  
  
"I feel like Kate Winslet," she said. "Except for the whole being naked part."  
  
Angel looked up excitedly, but before Buffy could retort, he shook it away and laughed.  
  
"I'm just joking. Now give me a tiny smile, not huge." Buffy closed her eyes for a minute, and pictured Spike's smirk. Unwittingly, Buffy smiled on her own, just thinking about it.  
  
"Perfect!" Angel exclaimed, "Now open your eyes."  
  
Buffy did, and Angel starting snapping away, moving from all different level planes...high, low, diagonal, right over here, looking up at her...  
  
It was actually a lot of fun.  
  
~~~~  
  
"Summers!" Buffy shot her head up at the sound of her voice. Spike smiled at her from across the room and motioned for her to enter his office.  
  
"What's up?" She asked as she entered his roomy office. He thrust a pile of papers at her.  
  
"Congratulations, pet. You get to do an independent project!" Spike replied with a cheeky grin. He moved fluidly back to his desk and propped his feet up, still grinning.  
  
"You seem excited," Buffy observed as she rearranged the papers in her arms so that they weren't quite cumbersome.  
  
"I think this one's gonna be a hit, is all."  
  
"What is it?"  
  
"A one-shot advice piece with no barriers, so to speak."  
  
Buffy knitted her eyebrows together, but decided she'd figure out what he meant later.  
  
"It should be brilliant." Spike's grin suddenly disappeared. "So long as you take it seriously. It was cute to start your first column with a joke, but too much of it will just piss off the readers."  
  
Buffy nodded.  
  
"Of course." She replied. Spike smiled at her again and stared down at his personal planner.  
  
"I've got a meeting now, so beat it, alright?" He said jokingly.  
  
Buffy rolled her eyes at him and left.  
  
"Bye, luv." He called out in a sing-song voice. Buffy ducked her head back into the office.  
  
"Bye, Spike." She replied with the same voice. Buffy chuckled as Spike sent her away with a hand wave and moved back to her desk.  
  
It was time to start delving into the mountain of paperwork.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Buffy read down the list of "questions" in horror.  
  
"No fucking way." She whispered.  
  
"I had sex with a sheep once, how can I tell my significant other that?"  
  
"How can I make her have sex with my best friend so I can watch?"  
  
"I want to-"  
  
"Ohmigod!" Buffy flipped over the paper as she read the last one.   
  
Taking every strand of anger along with her, Buffy stormed across the room and started pounding on Spike's door.  
  
"Hold on a bloody second!" Spike swung the door open and came face to face with a very, very pissed off Buffy. "Um, is everything alright, luv?"  
  
Buffy glared at him and pushed her way into the office. "There is no way in * hell * I'm doing that so-called advice piece. It's nothing but a mockery to my profession."  
  
Spike shut his eyes and clenched his jaw. "Look, you really don't have a choice in the matter. It's my magazine and I choose who does what around here."  
  
Buffy reread the questions again. "Are these even real?" she asked in disgust. "I think Anya made them up."  
  
Buffy laughed humorlessly. "Great! So it's not even an honest slutbag piece. It's completely made up."  
  
"Our readers don't actually give a damn whether it's real or not. They just wanna read the thing!" Spike explained angrily.  
  
Buffy slammed the paper down on his desk. "I'm not doing it," she said stubbornly, folding her arms.  
  
"I'm sorry, who runs the magazine again? I'm telling you that you're gonna do it and that means you're gonna bloody well do it!!" Spike roared.  
  
"Then I quit," Buffy replied, reaching for the doorknob.  
  
That brought Spike to a screeching halt.  
  
He jumped in front of her, blocking the only exit.  
  
"Let's not be hasty here, luv. You don't actually wanna quit..." he reasoned.  
  
"If I have to do that 'story,' I do."  
  
Spike ran his tongue over his lips as he contemplated what to do. "Fine," he finally said. "You win. I'll get a freelancer to do it. Now will you stay? He looked to her with puppy dog eyes.  
  
Buffy closed her eyes and nodded. "Yeah."  
  
Spike sighed in relief. "Thank god! Anya would've killed me!"  
  
Buffy forced a smile. "I have to get back to work."  
  
"Right, yeah. Sure. Go ahead. I'll talk to you later."  
  
"Sure," Buffy replied. She left Spike's office and sat down at her desk. She plucked the phone up and dialed Willow's number.  
  
"Hi, Will? Hey. I'm at work. Uh-huh. Well, let's just say I got my first real taste of what this magazine is all about..."  
  
~  
  
tbc... 


	6. Chapter Five

~  
  
A week later, a knock on the door brought Spike out of his staring contest with his computer.  
  
"Hmm? What? Come in." He finally managed out. A young, red-head stepped through the threshold. She smiled coyly at Spike, who sat up straight at the sight of her, "Make yourself comfortable, luv." He cooed, kicking out a newly purchased stool. She sat down.  
  
"Thank you, sir." A slight Texan accent perked the edges of her words.  
  
"Dixie girl, are ya? I've never seen you around." Spike commented, "Do you need help with something?"  
  
"I'm a new intern, Lindsey Cowan." She explained, her voice just above a whisper in a way that made Spike's neck hairs stand on end, "I just have some messages for you. Miss Summers is ill today, she has a stomach virus or something."  
  
"Oh, no..." Spike said, his eyebrows furrowing in genuine concern. Spike's eyes widened for a millisecond when he realized he had * actually * just thought that, but in under three seconds, he refocused his attention on the beauty in front of him.  
  
"...and Mr. Giles says that he'll be returning sometime next week and that everything went smoothly with the investors."  
  
"Well, that calls for a celebration." Spike declared. He then turned his gaze to Lindsey and lowered his voice, "Don't you think, luv?"  
  
She crossed her legs and a pink blush went across her pale cheeks.  
  
"Most definitely." She answered. Spike stood up and stood right behind her. He dipped his head in his calculated way so that his lips were mere inches away from grazing her ear.  
  
"Let me take you out tonight." He whispered.  
  
She bit her lip.  
  
She giggled.  
  
She nodded.  
  
"Alright."  
  
Spike smiled at her.  
  
~~~~~~~~  
  
Spike raked his hand through his hair as he opened his car door. He looked over at his car clock, which read the time as being 2 am.  
  
He mentally scolded himself as he quickly fixed the buttons on his red shirt. He looked down and rolled his eyes, zipping up his fly. Spike shook his head at himself...he had certainly gotten outta there fast. He leaned his head back for a moment, letting a moment of weariness pass through him. He sat up starkly and threw the seatbelt over himself. He put the keys into the ignition and started the car.  
  
Then, he was gone.  
  
~~~~~  
  
"Hello, Miss. Can I help you?" Buffy looked up into the face of the CVS employee. She nodded.  
  
"Yeah. I'm here to pick up a prescription." She handed the pharmacist the slip of paper her doctor had given her. The man read it quickly and nodded.  
  
"It should be ready in about three hours. You could just go back to work or something and pick it up then." He said.  
  
Buffy laughed, "Actually, my boss told me to take the rest of the day off. Or, I should say, ordered me to. He thought I still looked too sick to come in, even though I don't feel it."  
  
The man just stared blankly at her. Buffy scrunched her nose for a second and tilted her head.  
  
"I'll be here in three hours." She said. The man grunted a goodbye and Buffy forced a smile, until she turned around.  
  
"Weirdo." She whispered, running her fingers through the length of her hair. Suddenly, though, she felt strong fingers encircle her arm.  
  
"Buffy Summers?" A deep masculine voice asked. Buffy flipped around and widened her eyes.  
  
"Riley Finn?" She asked.  
  
Riley's face broke out into a huge grin.  
  
"Buffy!" He exclaimed, wrapping her tiny frame into a bear hug, "God! It's so good to see you!"  
  
"Riley?" Buffy asked again, still shell-shocked.  
  
"The one and only." He laughed, "How are you? Are you living in LA now?"  
  
"Um, yeah." Buffy quickly recovered, "I'm working for a magazine."  
  
"Really? Which one?"  
  
"Why are you here? I thought you were enlisting." Buffy steered the conversation away from S&M. Riley shook his head.  
  
"I thought about it, but the idea of the military just was a bit extreme for me. I'm more of a quiet living type." He explained. Buffy tried to keep from snorting.   
  
"So, what are you doing now?"  
  
"I work for a data processing company. It's really exciting." Riley said, his eyes lighting up like a child's on Christmas.  
  
"I'll bet it is." Buffy replied briskly. "So, big changes for Mr. Finn. Is that all that's new in your life?"  
  
Riley contemplated that question.  
  
"Well, I guess there's always Sam, but you knew about her."  
  
Buffy cocked her head.  
  
"Sam?" She asked. Riley nodded.  
  
"Yeah. Sam. My wife?"  
  
All the blood drained from Buffy's face.  
  
"Your wife..." She repeated shakily.  
  
"Yeah, you were invited to the wedding last year, remember? We never got an RSVP from you." Riley replied. Buffy gave a tiny cough and wringed her hands together.  
  
"I, uh, I guess my invitation got lost in the mail." Buffy said, her voice sounding detached and distant.  
  
"Wow, yeah, I guess. Huh. Well, Sam's great. She's a data processor, like me. It's great fun, we have so much to talk about. She's funny, smart, attractive..." Riley continued to talk on and on about "Sam," but Buffy wasn't listening. She was staring at the golden ring on Riley's left ring finger. He was married. Married, married, married, married, married, married. Married. M-A-R-R-I-E-D. Willow and Oz were getting married. She wasn't. Xander would probably get married before her. Marriage. Married. Married. To find someone to spend the rest of one's life with. Married. Married, married. Riley and Sam would soon have little Riley's and little Sam's running around...and they'd all grow up to be little data processors. Willow and Oz. Riley and Sam. Married. Married.  
  
Somehow, through all of Buffy's thoughts, she had maintained a conversation with Riley, left the CVS, and found herself in a bar. As soon as she became aware of her surroundings, Buffy clonked her head onto the counter, whimpering in defeat. She felt someone tap on her shoulder.  
  
"Buffy?"   
  
"Buffy, luv, are you alright?"   
  
"Hello, Spike." Buffy said breathily as she sat up. Her eyes were bloodshot and her head felt numb. She forced a smile at him, but his dark blue eyes latched onto her green ones. They seemed to see right through her.  
  
"Why are you in a bar?" He asked, "This place is only for pathetic prats like me."  
  
Buffy laughed.  
  
"I can say, without any doubt, that I * definitely * fit into that category."  
  
"And I can say, without any doubt, that you are bloody wrong about that one, pet." Spike replied, sitting down next to her, "What's on your mind?"  
  
Buffy laughed humorlessly.  
  
"He's married!" She said, placing sarcastic cheerfulness on her words. Spike drew in his eyebrows and gave her a look.  
  
"Riley." She explained, "My high school sweetheart. And my only, actual *serious* boyfriend. God, I'm so pathetic!" Buffy clonked her head down, again. Spike awkwardly patted her shoulder.  
  
"You're not pathetic, luv. It's natural that you'd be upset. I mean, hell, if I heard Dru was getting married, I'd..." Spike trailed off when he caught Buffy staring at him, "What?"  
  
"Do you still love Drusilla?" She asked. Spike shrugged.  
  
"Part of me always will, I guess. But I'm not *in* love with her anymore. We live in two separate worlds."  
  
"Ditto with me and Riley. Cept that we *always* lived in two separate worlds. Him in the boring, safe one, me in the real one."  
  
"Then you're probably better off that you didn't marry him." Spike replied, taking another sip of liquor. Buffy widened her eyes and stared at him. Then she burst out laughing.  
  
"Oh, god, no! I wouldn't marry him if someone put a gun to my head! No, no...I'm just upset that everyone has someone but me."  
  
"Here, here." Spike said, tipping his glass slightly.  
  
"You have girls, though." Buffy commented.  
  
"Not the same as having 'someone.'" Spike shot back, "Trust me. I'd take what me and Dru had any day over this life."  
  
"But not necessarily with Dru." Buffy filled in. Spike smirked and shrugged.  
  
"Guess so."  
  
Buffy looked at Spike.  
  
"You're British, right?"  
  
Spike merely looked at her. She laughed and shook her head.  
  
"Well, obviously, you are." She said, "But what I mean is, there's a special showing of Monty Python and the Holy Grail at this IMAX theatre. Kinda freaky, but you feel like you're actually there when the Black Knight gets all his limbs chopped off. I thought maybe you'd be interested, ya know, two pals going to see British humor...only one of them can actually explain it!"  
  
Spike pretended to contemplate the idea, instead of just jumping out of his chair with a YES.  
  
"Alright, luv." He said, standing up.  
  
The two friends then went off, ready to laugh.  
  
~~~~~~  
  
Buffy sat at her desk, doodling tiny circles on a notepad.  
  
She thought wryly, turning the papers over. She ran her fingers through her hair and flipped open her iBook. As soon as she logged on, however, a message popped up.  
  
:: REYNOLDSW: Hey, pet. This is a new system; if you need to contact anyone for a quick question, just click on the new Message Network icon and type the last name and then the first initial of the person you need to get in contact with. Just don't forget to put a 'W' on mine, instead of an S ;) ::  
  
Buffy smiled and quickly typed a reply back.  
  
:: SUMMERSB: Thanks for the info, Spike. ::  
  
He instantly replied.  
  
:: REYNOLDSW: Sure thing, luv. Now get to work...and look out for evil rabbits. (P.S. Did you know that Anya is actually scared of bunnies after seeing that movie?) ::  
  
Buffy laughed out loud and shook her head, canceling the message, when suddenly, another popped up.  
  
:: OCONNORA: Hello, Buffy. ::  
  
Buffy raised her eyebrows and felt her cheeks flush.  
  
:: SUMMERSB: Hi, Angel. Do you need anything? ::  
  
The reply came.  
  
:: OCONNORA: I think this is probably against company policy to use this system like this, but I was wondering if you'd like to have dinner with me sometime. Say, Friday? ::  
  
Underneath Buffy's ecstatic feeling of joy, a ripple of annoyance passed through...   
  
This, however, was not going to stop her.  
  
:: SUMMERSB: Friday's great! ::  
  
:: OCONNORA: Excellent. I know a great club, The Robot's Apartment. We could meet there around 7. ::  
  
Buffy frowned slightly. She had been hoping for a real dinner, where she could actually get to know Angel. But, she was * not * going to look a gift horse in the mouth.  
  
:: SUMMERSB: Yeah, it is great. My friends and I go there a lot. ::  
  
:: OCONNORA: I'll see you then. I have a shoot now. Goodbye. ::  
  
:: SUMMERSB: Bye. ::  
  
She deleted the conversation with two very distinct emotions running through her.  
  
One was thrilled that Angel O'Connor had actually asked her out.  
  
The other though..  
  
. "Why do I feel like I just got asked out like a freshman in high school?" She wondered aloud.  
  
But she'd get over it.  
  
She'd be with Angel, and that's all that really mattered.  
  
~~~~~~~~  
  
Angel knocked on the edge of Spike's open door.  
  
"Hiya, Reynolds." The brunette male said with a tiny smile. Spike didn't even look up as he replied.  
  
"O'Connor. What do you want?"  
  
Angel shrugged and entered the office, his smile becoming fully smug.  
  
"Just thought I'd drop by for a quick chat between old buddies."  
  
Spike brought his glare up sharply.  
  
"We're not buddies." Spike said in a whisper, "You bloody well outta know that by now."  
  
Angel sighed.  
  
"How many times do I have to fucking apologize to you?" He asked. Spike shook his head.  
  
"It's not even about the whole Dru deal. It's about you being a bastard."  
  
"Then fire me." Angel challenged, the smile plastered back on his face. Spike narrowed his eyes.  
  
"You know I can't do that. You're too good at what you do. We'd never get someone as good as you...I like your pictures." Pause. "Doesn't mean I like you."  
  
"Right back at ya." Angel said with an eyeroll, "If we're being honest."  
  
"It's always the best policy."  
  
"Well, since we're talking honesty..." Angel looked at his boss, "Do you have a thing for Buffy?"  
  
Spike furrowed his brow.  
  
"No." He answered shortly. Angel nodded slowly, shifting his weight.  
  
"Oh. Good." He said with mock-relief. Spike raised an eyebrow, silently asked Angel to elaborate.  
  
"I just asked her out." Angel explained.  
  
Something rolled up in Spike's stomach. He thought.  
  
"Why?" Spike asked his voice cracking.  
  
"Why not? She's cute, she's single-"  
  
"She's vulnerable." Spike finished, putting on a bad Midwest accent. He glared at the photographer and stood up so that he was only inches away from Angel.  
  
"What the hell are you playing at, O'Connor?"  
  
Angel smiled slowly.  
  
"Like you have a right to question my intentions with people at work. Bagged any Texan redheads lately?" He replied.  
  
"Buffy's not like normal girls." Spike continued, pointedly ignoring Angel's comment, "If you use her, you'll regret it, I guarantee it."  
  
The threat in Spike's voice did not go unnoticed by Angel.  
  
"Hey, Spikey! I'm just having some fun with the girl." He said with a smile, "I'll see where it heads, ya know?"  
  
"Bullshit." Spike snorted.  
  
"What I mean is...you're right. Buffy's different than other girls. I'm not gonna say that she's just a lay." Angel said quietly.  
  
"But you're not going to deny it either." Spike replied icily.  
  
Angel just smiled.  
  
"See ya later, Boss."  
  
With that, Angel left the room with a slam of the door.  
  
tbc... 


	7. Chapter Six

A/N: Well, this is odd. For some reason, none of the 'thoughts' are showing up on the site. I don't know why...but for some reason they didn't upload. They are in brackets, so maybe FF.net skipped over them because of that, but I don't know. I do know that I'm going to try to upload them all again and replace the thoughts so that things make more sense and go more smoothly. But sorry about that! ~  
  
"Wills?" Buffy called as she stepped through the threshold of her best friends apartment.  
  
"I'm in the kitchen, Buff!" A voice called. Buffy laughed.  
  
"Uh-oh. Should I preemptively call the fire department?" Buffy replied.  
  
"Funny-Ha-Ha-Not-So-Much." Willow replied, sticking out her tongue as  
Buffy entered the small kitchen. The friends hugged and laughed as Buffy  
took a seat.  
  
"So, are you ready to shop til we drop?" Buffy asked, "What is it exactly  
that we're looking for?"  
  
"Dresses for my engagement party." Willow explained, "I have to find a  
really pretty one for me, and a pretty, but not quite as pretty, one for  
you."  
  
"Gee, thanks." Buffy deadpanned. "I didn't know you guys were gonna have  
an engagement party."  
  
"Oh, well it will be small. Only about 250 guests." Willow said in all  
seriousness. Buffy raised her eyebrows.  
  
"Yeah, sounds tiny."  
  
Willow glared at her friend.  
  
"I come from a large Jewish family. 250 * is * tiny."  
  
"Point taken." Buffy replied with a wry smile. As the women continued to  
chat, Oz stepped into the kitchen, wrapping his arms around Willow's  
waist.  
  
"Hey babe." She said, leaning up to kiss his cheek.  
  
"Hey. What's going on?" He asked, nodding a hello to Buffy.  
  
"We're going shopping. No boys allowed." Buffy said sternly. Oz raised  
his eyebrows.  
  
"How disappointing. I was really in the mood for some intense pain." He  
deadpanned.  
  
"There's always the Chinese Water Torture. All you need is a sink." Buffy  
shot back smoothly.  
  
"I'll think about it." Oz replied before turning his attention to Willow,  
"What are you guys shopping for?"  
  
"Our engagement party." Willow said, lightly toying with Oz's fingers.  
  
"Engagement party?" Oz asked, confused.  
  
"Yes. We're having an engagement party." Willow replied with an eyeroll.  
  
"We are?"  
  
"We are." Willow said with her resolve face on. She disentangled herself  
from Oz's embrace and gave him a quick kiss.  
  
"We're gonna run. I'll see you tonight."  
  
Oz kissed her again, forcing Buffy to look down, scolding herself  
mentally for being jealous of the two of them. She shot her head up again  
when Willow grabbed her arm, squealing happily, and practically yanked  
her out of the room.  
  
"Bye Oz!" Buffy called, laughing as she was pulled away. The girls  
laughed when together when they were out in the hall.  
  
"Are you ready?" Buffy asked, bobbling her head slightly.  
  
"Sure am!" Willow replied perkily, "Let's locamote!"  
  
They laughed again as they headed down the hallway, ready for a thousand minutes of pure fun.  
  
~  
  
"This is not fun." Buffy muttered to herself a few days later as she browsed through plate after plate in the Galleria's kitchen store. "Willow just * had * to decide that she was Anti-Wedding-Registry."  
  
"I know what you mean. Bloody irritating is what it is." Spike picked up a random plate and flipped it around, looking at the writing on the back, "Sides, aren't we supposed to get them something less practical? For the engagement party you don't usual get things like this. That's for the actual wedding or the Bridal shower, for the bints anyway."  
  
Buffy crinkled her nose.  
  
"The 'bints?' British expressions will always be beyond me I think."  
  
"Same with you Americans. What exactly is a 'dawg' anyway?" Spike asked, his eyes gleaming devilishly. Buffy gave Spike a look and just shook her head. He laughed.  
  
"I * was * kidding, pet."  
  
"I know." Buffy smiled at him and Spike noticed that her eyes squinted ever so slightly, crinkling at the edges. He wondered if that happened every time she smiled. He made a mental note to look for it.  
  
"So, O Wedding Guru, what would you suggest I get Willow?" Buffy asked. Spike shrugged.  
  
"Hell if I know." He admitted, "I was just planning on getting them a gift certificate. Some place semi-manly-ish. Remember, it * is * Oz's wedding, too."  
  
Buiffy smiled sheepishly.  
  
"I know. I just forgot for a second." She pouted. Spike felt his heart flutter ever so slightly as she jutted out her lower lip. He shook his head, trying to erase yet another lapse. And that's all they were. Lapses. Lapses of * what * he didn't know.  
  
But he did know that they didn't mean anything. Nothing at all.  
  
The feeling of Buffy's cool hand on his forearm snapped him out of his reverie. He refocused his gaze and found himself staring into Buffy's concerned eyes.  
  
"Are you alright? Ya kinda zonked out on me there."  
  
"I'm fine." Spike managed out.  
  
Buffy nodded slowly.  
  
"Well, we should probably get going. The mall's gonna be closing in about, oh, three minutes." Buffy said looking down at her watch. She smiled again, "Time sure flies when you're having fun."  
  
Spike nodded and yawned.  
  
"Yeah, I know what you mean. I'm shattered. I haven't been sleeping much these past few nights. I've had to depend on Tylenol PM to try to get myself knocked out."  
  
"That's not a good idea." Buffy replied, "I mean, not every night. At least, I don't think it would be."  
  
Spike cocked his head to the side.  
  
"Worried about me, Summers?" He asked cheekily.  
  
Buffy rolled her eyes.  
  
"Don't let it go to your head."  
  
"Oh, don't worry. I will." Spike replied, only half-kiddingly. Buffy laughed.  
  
"I'm sure you will. Let's go."  
  
Spike nodded, ignoring the tinge of regret that bit at his skin.  
  
"Right then."  
  
As Buffy walked a few feet ahead of him, Spike took a deep breath and looked around.  
  
"I'm fine." He whispered to himself.  
  
He was always fine.  
  
~  
  
It was Friday night.  
  
The Earth seemed to shake inside the club as techno beats pounded into the bodies, skulls, and hearts of everyone there - Buffy and Angel included.  
  
"Are you having a good time?" Angel asked Buffy, but was drowned out by the screeching computer generated music. Buffy scrunched up her features and held her hand to her ear.  
  
"HUH?" She asked, trying to yell over the music.  
  
Angel took another sip of his beer.  
  
"I SAID, ARE YOU HAVING A GOOD TIME?" He yelled. Buffy smiled and nodded, giving him two thumbs up. Angel smiled widely and took her hand.  
  
"ME TOO!" He screamed.  
  
"GOOD!" Buffy yelled back and laughed, "THIS IS SORT OF WEIRD, THOUGH."  
  
Angel cupped his hand over his ear.  
  
"WHAT?"  
  
Buffy sighed and pointed to the door. Angel nodded and the two of them walked outside.  
  
"This is much better." Buffy stated, "We can actually talk now."  
  
"But we can't sit." Angel complained. Buffy felt a ripple of disappointment go through her.  
  
"But-" She stopped herself. It would selfish of her to not let Angel sit. "Okay, we'll go back in."  
  
This, however, was not meant to be.  
  
Angel's pager began to vibrate. Angel crinkled his brow and pulled out the tiny device, reading the message that flashed across.  
  
"It's from Spike." He explained, "Apparently, there's some sort of emergency at the office."  
  
"The office?" Buffy asked incredulously, "What the hell is Spike doing at the office on a Friday night?"  
  
"Beats me..." Angel answered, honestly befuddled, "It must be important. I should...but I..."  
  
"Shh..." Buffy put her fingers to his lips, "Go. It's okay. I'll just say that you owe me one."  
  
Angel smiled.  
  
"That works for me."  
  
Then, he leaned down and softly pressed his lips on hers. Buffy could've sworn that she had melted into a pile of goo.  
  
"Thank you for the wonderful time." He whispered. "Do you need money for a cab?"  
  
Buffy shook her head, still a little woozy from the kiss.  
  
"I'll be okay." She thought, vaguely aware of the goofy grin on her face.  
  
"Well, goodbye then." Angel kissed her cheek and pulled out his keys. With one last glance to Buffy, he got in his Mercedes and drove off into the night.  
  
~  
  
"O'Connor!" Spike called out as Angel walked through the door. He ran over and clamped his hand down on the photographers shoulder. "Thank God you're here. There's been a problem with the pictures from your past 8 shoots."  
  
Angel's eyes bogged.  
  
"Eight shoots!? That's all of the pieces for this issue! What the hell is wrong with them? Didn't they develop alright? I mean, I did it myself, they seemed fine." He reasoned, running his fingers through his hair frantically. Spike pursed his lips.  
  
"No, no. It wasn't the photo quality, but more the...artistic quality. I just didn't like them."  
  
Angel stared incredulously at his boss.  
  
"You didn't like them?" He asked slowly, truly not believing the words that were coming out of Spike's mouth.  
  
Spike shrugged.  
  
"Hated 'em, to be honest. Bloody horrible. You can do so much better." He explained.  
  
Angel shook his head, breathing deeply, trying to keep his cool as Spike continued...  
  
"So I need you to redo all the shots you took, which means you have to rebook the same models, except for the ones I have marked with a red 'X', which means that I want you to try to find a new girl. I'd do it myself, but I've got too much work as it is, and you're plates pretty clean." Spike smiled widely, "I also need you to do some research on different types of camera equipment. I need to make sure we've got the best."  
  
Angel's facial expressions were now in torture.  
  
"Can't you get an intern to do that?" He hissed. Spike shook his head.  
  
"No. You're an expert at all that...you'd be able to tell which sources were full of bullshit or not. I expect an extensive amount of information on my desk in three weeks at the very latest."  
  
"This is insane..." Angel muttered.  
  
"Hey, no one ever said this job was easy." Spike said, wagging a finger menacingly at Angel, "So suck it up, chump."  
  
"You want me to redo * all * that shots. Every last one of them?" Angel asked, pleading subtly with Spike.  
  
Spike pondered this and thought of something.  
  
"You don't have to redo the promotional shot for the 'Fake Blonde' column. That one came out alright."  
  
Angel shot his head up. He turned his neck slowly to Spike, anger dancing in his eyes. He clenched his jaw and his fists before physically holding himself back as he continued to glare at his superior.  
  
"You are so fucking pathetic." He spat out. "You really think that by giving me all this extra work I won't have time to spend with Buffy?"  
  
Spike's eyes widened for a split second, like a kid getting caught stealing a candy bar. But he soon recovered with a snort.  
  
"I haven't the faintest clue what you're talking about." He insisted.  
  
"Oh, come off it. Everyone here sees it. You're little crush on Buffy. I thought it was cute at first, but you're taking it too far, pal. You need to get a fucking life and keep out of mine and Buffy's."  
  
"My * crush * on * Buffy *?" Spike manically laughed, "You are a bloody comedian! And completely out of your mind! I don't have a * crush * on her. She's my friend and if anything I'm just protective of her because I know what a fucking asshole you are and I know how oh-so charming you can be and how I would kill you if you hurt her, but I'd hate myself more for giving you the opportunity. I told you to stay away from her in the beginning." Spike's voice turned to a threat, "And you didn't listen. But now, if you hurt her like you do the others, I will fire you. I will make your professional and personal life a living hell, so help me God."  
  
He and Angel were now standing nose to nose, glaring coldly into each other's eyes.  
  
"But you're not in love with her." Angel mocked. Spike titled his head, his eyes no more than ice blue slits on his face.  
  
"No."  
  
Angel just shook his head and stepped back. He gave Spike another cold glare, but took his portfolio. He stopped in the doorway.  
  
"The only reason I'm doing this is because you control my paycheck." Angel said venomously, "And I don't have any better offers right now."  
  
"Great. I care." Spike jutted his thumb, "Now get the fuck out of my office."  
  
Angel stepped out, still keeping eye contact with his boss.  
  
A silent war was then declared.  
  
~ 


End file.
